


Hostage

by sanctuary_for_all



Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Anyone here want to say goodbye to someone named Russ?”</p><p>***Now with epilogue***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I just knew that when they remodeled this branch, they’d insist on doing the other one at some point. Never mind this one is half the size, and simply can’t manage the customers from both.”

“Oh, hush. They couldn’t expand this one because it’s in a historic building. Just look around and enjoy the detailing while we wait.”

Absently listening to the people ahead of her in line – a cop’s habit, Russ always said – Holly looked at the distance between her and the bank teller and tried to decide whether it was worth the wait. The line probably wouldn’t be any shorter than this after work, but she only had so much of her lunch break left and she’d been really looking forward to picking up something from the new bakery on third. She knew Russ was back at the office doing paperwork, and she'd wanted to bring back something to cheer him up....

The sound of screeching tires just outside made her turn around just in time to see the two men in ski masks burst through the front doors. They were both carrying automatics, and Holly felt her stomach plummet as they swept them around the room. She heard the terrified murmurs start, and she found she was lifting her hands even before the taller man opened his mouth.

“I need all the money in the safe, and everything you upstanding citizens might have on you.” He showed his teeth in a grin that scared her almost more than the gun did. “As you can see, this is a—“

He was cut off by the sound of gunfire from the other robber. A woman screamed, and out of the corner of her eye Holly could see the security guard on the ground. Even from here, she could tell he’d died instantly.

The first robber swore, jabbing a finger at the second in a silent warning. Then he cleared his throat, fixing both his gaze and his gun back on the hostages. “Like I was saying, this is a stickup.”

000

Russ squinted at the sentence he'd just written, imaging the look on Holly's face if she was forced to make sense of it, then sighed and deleted the whole thing. This was why he'd become a cop, not a damn English teacher.

He looked over at his partner. "I'm pretty sure it's your turn to write this one."

Font shot him an amused look. "Then you'd better pay the 50 bucks you owe me for last week's game."

Russ glared at him for another second, then returned to the report. He was halfway through his second attempt at concisely explaining how the chickens had gotten involved when his cell phone saved him by ringing. He was relieved enough at the interruption that he didn't bother pretending to be annoyed when he saw Milt's name pop up. "Please tell me you need me out on a case with you."

"Shots were fired at the Chemical Bank location on Bradley. The person who called it in said it sounded like an automatic."

"A bank robbery?" Russ asked, gesturing at Font to follow him as he headed for the door. Those, unfortunately, really were the FBI's jurisdiction, but there was no way he was going to sit here filling out those stupid—

He caught sight of Holly's empty desk out of the corner of his eye, his attention snagged by the sudden memory of her saying she was going to stop by the bank on her way to pick up lunch. He knew Chemical was her bank – they'd joked about the name, once – but there was another branch in the city. There was no way she was anywhere near this.

Except ... that other branch was closed for remodeling, now that he thought about it. And it had been awhile, since she left. Still, she probably had other errands to run....

"Russ?"

"We're on our way." He followed Font out to the car, letting the other man drive while he called Holly's cell phone number. Even when it went straight to voicemail, he told himself she was just busy. She was fine.

Probably. Maybe.

Just because there was gunshots didn't mean anyone had been hit. If she was even there at all.

His partner glanced over at him. "Russ?" he asked, the tone of his voice exactly the same as the one Milt had used. "You okay?"

"Fine." His voice sounded strange to his own ears. "Let's just get there."

Font shot him a look making it clear he didn't believe him, but Russ didn't respond. There was no reason to – he was being an idiot and had gotten himself worked up over nothing. Holly was probably somewhere far away from all of this. She was fine.

No reason to worry.

000

The gunmen collected the cell phones, dropping them into a shopping bag they’d taken off one of the hostages. One of the phones rang from inside the bag, and Holly fought to keep any kind of expression off her face as she recognized her ringtone.

The first gunman swore and fished around for the phone. He scowled at the screen, then smirked. “Anyone here want to say goodbye to someone named Russ?”

Holly’s throat tightened, but she pressed her lips together and stayed silent. Finally, the ringing stopped, and the gunman dropped the phone back into the bag. "Too bad." His voice was cruel. "It would have made a great bit on tonight's news."

Then he turned away, heading towards the other gunman. Once he was far enough away, a man in a suit and tie leaned in close to the group of hostages. "We should do something," he whispered. "There are more of us than there are of them."

"That didn't help the security guard," a woman hissed, glaring at the man. An old woman, her shoulder pressed against Holly's and her hand gripping her husband's hand tightly, glanced over at the body before looking away again.

Holly shook her head, voice low and eyes on the gunmen. "Someone will have reported the gunshots by now. We should let the police take care of this."

The man settled back, still uneasy, and Holly tried very hard not to wonder if she'd just missed her last chance to say goodbye.

000

The area around the bank had been cordoned off, which meant that they had to park and walk in. Russ came dangerously close to running, just far enough that he could see the parking lot. There was no way to miss that boat Holly drove, and if he didn't see it....

He jerked to a halt when he saw the Volvo, parked just right to show off that dent in the back bumper that she kept meaning to get fixed. He just stared at it for a second, the sounds around him fading as the ice worked its way through him.

Russ made himself start breathing again only when he felt Font's hand on his shoulder.  "Okay, something is seriously wrong, and if you don't tell me what it is I'm handcuffing you to the steering wheel."

He cleared his throat, but it still felt like he'd swallowed sandpaper. "That's Holly's car." He jerked his head over to the Volvo.

Font didn't say anything for a moment. "Listen, we can't be sure it's...." The rest of the sentence trailed off as he caught sight of Russ's expression. He glanced back over at the car, then let out a breath. "Shit."

"Yeah." Keeping his eyes anywhere but on the parking lot, he headed over to where the bane of his existence was standing surrounded by his minions.

When Milt caught sight of them, he gestured them closer. "Glad you're here. I was hoping you could—" He stopped when he focused on Russ's face, expression immediately going concerned. "Is everything okay?"

For an instant, he thought about attempting to say he was fine – if the man tried to talk to him about feelings, Russ would have to kill him. But it wasn't like Milt wouldn't find out, anyway. "Holly's in there."

Milt's eyebrows lifted, the sheer empathy on his face almost more than Russ could handle at the moment. Then he put it away, and there was nothing but deathly seriousness. “Traffic cameras show two masked men, both carrying automatic weapons, entered the building about 15 minutes ago.” He gestured a still of the video they had onscreen. “The car parked half on the curb is theirs – stolen, with no suspects in the original theft - but they didn’t try to make a move for it even before we arrived.”

The look on his face made it clear that he knew just how bad that was, so Russ didn’t point it out. “Any idea how many hostages are inside?”

Milt shook his head. “Thanks to the blinds, the only line of visibility is through the front doors. As you can see, it’s not helping us much.”

Russ swore. “Don’t you have some fancy FBI gadget somewhere that can let you read that information through the side of the building?”

“In D.C., yes. Here, no.” Milt’s jaw tightened. “And it’ll take the hostage negotiator in Lansing an hour to get here.”

“We can’t wait that long.” Russ took a deep breath. “You need to do it.”

“I know.” Milt pulled out his phone, putting it on speaker before dialing one of the landlines inside the bank. After several rings it hit an answering machine message, doing the same thing when he tried again. He tried a second number, then a third.

Finally, someone picked up the phone. “Bet you didn’t think your day would be this exciting when you woke up this morning, did you?”

“We just want to resolve this as peacefully as possible,” Milt said, his tone falling into ‘sensitive hero’ mode. Normally it would have been annoying, but right then it was the best chance Holly had. “All I care about right now is how the hostages are doing.”

“Well, they’re doing just fine, Mr. Hostage Negotiator, except for the one who’s kinda dead.” There was snickering on the other end of the phone, and Russ’s fists clenched as thought seriously about strangling the asshole. The other thought, the flash of Holly on the ground covered in blood, was shoved out before it could fully form. He couldn’t let himself do that.

Milt’s jaw tightened, but there was no change in his voice.  “Let’s focus on the ones who are fine right now. If they stay that way, we can work with each other.” When there was no response, he pushed ahead. “My name’s Milt. What should I call you?”

The snicker was back. “You can call me Boss, _Milt_. And I think you should be worried less about the hostages and more about me, because my friend and I are the ones wearing bomb vests. We’ve even got fancy little dead man’s switches, and if anyone out there gets too excited we have no problems going out in a blaze of glory.”

Milt looked up, meeting Russ and Font’s eyes. The robbers had been wearing black sweatshirts, and they’d been bulky enough – and the camera crap enough – that they could have been hiding anything. They didn’t sound panicked at all by the thought that they’d killed someone, or the possible jail time. In fact, they sounded amused.

This was starting to sound a hell of a lot more like a show than it did a robbery, and criminals who were putting on a show didn’t give a damn about making sure anyone stayed alive.

If they didn’t do something fast, everyone in that building ( _Holly_ , his brain kept whispering) was in serious trouble.

000

Holly was incensed.

There’d been a few gasps from the hostages when the gunman had said he and his partner were both wearing bomb vests, but their sweatshirts moved in entirely the wrong way to be hiding something that bulky. She knew any security footage the police outside had probably been able to get their hands on, however, probably wasn’t clear enough to pick up on that particular nuance. Even if they weren’t sure, they would have to move ahead as if there were bomb vests were real – there was too much risk to the hostages if they were wrong.

She felt her fists clench, forcing them to relax only when the old woman next to her gently squeezed her hand. Her husband had his eyes closed, head leaning against her shoulder, and Holly had a sudden, terrible feeling that the man had health problems of some kind.

Milt recovered well from the threat, moving ahead with what Holly presumed was some kind of FBI hostage playbook. The gunman insisted on a plane – his partner snickered at the demand – and in exchange Milt started asking for hostages. The gunman didn’t want to give up anyone, but Milt mentioned it would look good for the news crew that had arrived.

Finally, he talked the gunmen into letting two of them go, as a show of good faith to the mythical people who would authorize the plane. The gunman hung up the phone, saying they needed to play a little “Russian Roulette” to pick, then turned towards the group of hostages.  "Two of you get to live. Fight about it amongst yourselves." He waved a dismissive hand in their direction, then turned towards the desks. The other man was already there, digging through desk drawers and pulling out files.

"I have children," one of the hostages whispered. "They need me to make it out of this."

"Most of us have children," another woman snapped, glaring at the first. "Why are yours more important than mine?"

"Just because you have kids doesn't make you special," a younger man added. "I have elderly parents who need me."

Holly just listened, watching as the gunmen stuffed files underneath their sweatshirts before tucking the bottom edge into their jeans. It wouldn't work as a bulletproof vest – she'd been the one to tell Russ about that particular episode of "Mythbusters" – but it would suggest enough mass under the fabric to help sell the lie they'd told.

Suddenly certain, she waited until both men had turned away before stealing a notepad and pen off the desk behind her. "Are any of you in any medical danger right now?" she asked, not looking up as she wrote. When no one responded, she let herself hesitate on the bottom part of the note. He probably already knew, and had always just been too kind to say anything....

No. She'd sworn to herself a long time ago that she'd never again leave anything unsaid.

Finishing, she folded the note and wrote Russ's name on the outside. Then she looked up at everyone. "No? Me either. But this man over here—" She turned to the old woman. "What's his name?"

"Peter," she said quietly. "He's missing his insulin shot."

"Peter," Holly repeated. "He and his wife need our help. I promise you this won't be our only chance, but we can all afford to wait. He can't."

Slowly, reluctantly, everyone started to nod. Once she'd gotten their agreement, she pressed the note into the woman's hand. "When you get outside, this needs to go to Detective Russell Agnew," she whispered in her ear. "Please, please make sure you hand it to only him."

There was no question in her mind that he would be out there. Russ had always been there when it mattered.

000

Russ had known that Holly wouldn't allow herself to be one of the first two hostages out of the building – she'd probably be last out, if she had her way – but that didn't mean he hadn't hoped. So when the old couple walked out, the woman propping her husband up a little and every on-scene cop covering their exit, his heart twisted in a way he'd never admit to out loud.

It was a surprise, then, when she dropped her husband off at the EMT to walk over to where the police were at their thickest. "Is there a Detective Russell Agnew here?" she called out, looking around. "I need to speak to him."

Russ pushed his way through the crowd, not sure what this was about but hoping it had something to do with Holly. "I'm Detective Agnew."

She handed up a folded up piece of notepad paper, his name written across it in very familiar handwriting. "A woman inside asked me to give you this. She seemed to feel it was very important."

He opened it to find more intel than they'd managed to gather since they'd arrived on scene.

_There are NO bomb vests._

_There are 13 hostages left, eight women and five men. They killed the security guard as soon as they came in._

_The gunmen have barely looked at the money or valuables since they got here._

Then, further down the page, were two more sentences that hit him like a punch to the heart.

_I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before this._

He swallowed, turning the paper around to make absolutely sure that was indeed his name written on the outside. Then he looked back at the two sentences, his eyes stinging.

"Are ... you the Russ who tried to call, earlier?"

His head jerked up at the woman's quiet question – he'd forgotten she was there – and whatever she saw on his face must have been answer enough. She squeezed his hand. "She'll be okay, detective. She's clearly a very special young woman."

"Yeah." His voice sounded like sandpaper. "She is." Then he folded the note, carefully tucking it into his inside jacket pocket. "Thank you."

The woman smiled before returning to her husband, and Russ stared hard at the bank and tried to figure out what in the hell they were gonna do. He watched the TV reporters who’d started to gather converge on her, like pack animals who’d just sighted prey. Bastards would do anything for a—

Okay, that might work.

He headed back towards Milt and Font, who both wore questioning expressions. “What was that?” Milt asked. “Did the robbers send out a note?”

“No, Holly did.” Russ’s voice was still a little rougher than it should have been, but neither man said anything. “Apparently, the guys inside _aren’t_ wearing bomb vests, don’t seem to give a shit about the money they just stole, and still have 13 hostages. They killed the security guard as soon as they got there.”

Milt looked upset, but Font had known Russ too long not to move straight to suspicion. “Which means?”

Russ shrugged out of his jacket, setting it down in the back of one of the vans before dropping his tie on top of it. He glanced over at the cameramen, evaluating, then untucked his shirt as well. “I’m about to do something stupid, and I need you two to hold up your end.”  

Font just sighed, which meant he took the news better than Milt did. “You are absolutely not going in there,” Milt said firmly, as if he thought he had any shot of commanding Russ to do anything. “Just give me more time.”

“You know as well that time isn’t going to make those two in there any more sane.” He pulled off his gun and holster, handing them to Font. “And the moment they realize you know they don’t have bomb vests, they’ll either shoot someone else to scare you again or try and figure out who told us.” He looked Milt square in the eye. “This is the best shot we have right now, and you know it.”

“Please tell me you have a plan of some kind,” Font asked.  “It doesn’t work out well for anyone when you wing it.”

“I’m going to go in there pretending to be a cameraman looking for an exclusive. I’ll try like hell to lure then to just outside the doors so I can get some stupid ‘shot’ or something, at which point everyone else comes in and shoots them dead.”

Font and Milt looked at each other, clearly wanting to argue. Milt, unsurprisingly, was the only one who tried. “At least wear a vest. They’ve already shown they’re not worried about killing people.”

Russ shook his head. “Not a chance. They think I’m a cop, that just gives them that much more reason to shoot someone. If they kill a guy they think is just an idiot reporter, no one else has to suffer for it.” Then, not waiting for a response to that, he headed over to the nearest cameraman and flashed his badge. “I can either officially requisition your camera on police business, or I can punch you in the face and take it away from you. Whichever makes you give it to me faster.”

There was a brief internal struggle, the man handed him the camera. “Just make sure you leave it running.” Russ put his eye in the same spot as the cameraman, decided he had a good enough idea of how the thing worked to fake it, then looked back at him. “Hat, too,” he added, gesturing for it.

The man sighed, taking the baseball cap with the station logo off his head. Russ stuck it on his own head, tossed his badge over to Font, then took a deep breath and headed into the bank.

000

Holly's whole body tensed when she saw someone approaching the doors, what looked like a news camera propped on his shoulder. There was no way Russ and Milt would have allowed something like that, and if the gunmen saw him....

Almost the exact moment she had the thought, the gunmen saw her. They immediately went for the door, both their guns up and pointed at the man, and Holly made a helpless noise as they swung open the door. Someone else was going to die right in front of her, and there was nothing she could do.

Then she heard the man's voice, and her heart stopped.

"...pissed off the cops, but what are they gonna do? Shoot a civilian? That asshole who looks like he's in charge of this thing started shouting at me, but this story's worth a hell of a lot more than the jail time he was threatening me with. No way was I going to miss the chance to get the two of you on camera."

There was a brief, horrible pause as neither of the gunmen moved, their guns still pointed at Russ. Holly curled her fingers into a fist, nails digging into her palms hard enough to stop her hands from shaking.

She still couldn't see his face, but Russ sounded completely unconcerned. "Look, I'm all for the dramatic pause, but is there any chance we can do this inside? Pat me down, I don't care, but we've got dead air right now and my bosses don't like that."

They finally moved back to let him inside, just far enough to get the door closed behind everyone. One gunman handed his weapon to the other, and he held both of them on Russ while the other patted him down. Russ mostly stared straight ahead, only letting himself glance over at the hostages once. It was probably for the best that their eyes didn't meet.  

The gunman took the camera, examining it, and Russ actually let himself sound annoyed. "Listen, I can give you a tutorial on the damn thing, or you can start telling our viewers your story. I know what I'd rather be doing."

They handed the camera back to him, and he immediately put the camera up to his eye. "So come on, guys. There's a microphone on this thing, and the people of Michigan are waiting to hear what you have to say."

Holly paid no attention to the story the men were telling, focusing entirely on Russell. After only a couple of minutes, he lowered the camera again. "Listen, the light in here really isn't good for this. Any chance we could move closer to the doors, maybe get a little sunlight?"

They weren't more than a few feet from the doors as it was. Holly pressed her lips together, her throat full of ice. If they even suspected he wasn't a cameraman, they wouldn't hesitate to shoot him.

The two men held a quick muttered conversation, then agreed. Russ raised the camera again, opening the door behind him and propping it open with his shoulder. "Just for light," he assured them.

He waited until they'd gotten deep into the story, voices raised and hands gesturing dramatically, and then he slowly started backing up through the doors. She didn't breathe as they started to follow him, occasionally nudged forward by an annoyed seeming wave of his hand. Distantly, she heard someone next to her whisper, "What is—" and jabbed a hand in that direction to silence whoever it was.

When Russ asked one of the doormen to hold the door open for him as they kept moving forward, Holly uncurled her fists only so she could press a hand against her mouth. Miraculously, he agreed, and the gunmen kept talking as the continued moving through the doors.

The moment the door swung close behind the second gunman, there was the sudden sound of gunshots. Both of the gunmen slammed against the glass of the door, making it fall back open and partially blocking her view of what was going on outside.

She couldn't see Russ anywhere.

The safe, sensible thing to do would be to stay where she was and wait for the response team to come inside. Holly knew that, and didn't hesitate for even a second before pushing herself to her feet and hurrying through the doors, looking for the man she loved.

000

Russ had thrown himself sideways, hoping that was enough of a signal, and in the middle of the gunshots that had immediately followed there was a screamed "No!" that had probably come from the actual owner of the camera. Then there was a moment of perfect stillness, and when he looked up and realized that everything had gone according to plan he was a little too stunned by that fact for a second to really process anything.

Then his brain kicked him. _Holly, damn it! Go get Holly!_

He immediately pushed himself to his feet, leaving the camera on the ground as the police and various reporters converged on the bodies. Before he could even take a step towards the bank doors, however, Holly launched out of them and straight into his arms.

Russ didn't need to think to catch her, the instinct as necessary as the one that kept him breathing. He pulled her as close as he possibly could, burying his face in her hair and letting himself just hold onto her for a little while.

"Do not _ever_ do that to me again," she said fiercely, her voice wet.

His own eyes were stinging even as he huffed out a laugh. "I'm not the one who got herself taken hostage, okay? I had to wing it."

"This is not even _slightly_ funny," she scolded, squeezing him tighter. "I am _furious_ at you right now."

There was a weird heat in Russ's chest, like sunlight had gotten lodged somewhere in between his ribs. Later, he would wonder if that was what happiness felt like. "Listen, about what you wrote in the note...."

She pulled back suddenly, looking worried. "You don't ... I didn't say it expecting you to...."

He cut off the rest of the sentence with a kiss, the stupid dramatic kind they always had in romance movies. She kissed him back just as enthusiastically, arms still tight around him like she wasn't ever planning on letting go.

He'd never believed it, but it turned out that a good enough kiss really did make the earth move.

When they broke apart, he pulled her close again. He was actually tearing up at this point, but dignity would require not holding onto Holly and that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. "I'm going to screw this up," he whispered, voice rough. "And even if by some miracle I don't, you'll wake up one day and realize you could do so much better than me. And when that happens, you're gonna be screwed because there is no way in hell I'm ever going to be able to let you go."

Her laugh was wet. "That sounds wonderful, actually."

000

Later, no one but Milt was surprised to find that neither Russ's name or face was included anywhere in the local newspaper's coverage of the event. The shot of he and Holly holding onto each other, however, appeared on every single one of the news broadcasts that aired that night.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the blackmailing scene in 1X07 was too wonderful not to reference somehow. If you don't like it, feel free to pretend I never wrote it.

_There's no way in hell I'm ever going to be able to let you go._

_That sounds wonderful, actually._

Holly had never felt so much like laughing and crying in the same moment, her chest so full she was amazed she could get out any words at all. She'd had a death grip on her emotions since those men had run into the bank, bracing herself for the worst possible outcome, and before that she'd bit her tongue time and time again rather than risk a friendship that meant the world to her.

But now she was safe, Russ was in her arms, and there was no more reason to hold anything back at all.

Russ suddenly pulled back just far enough to look at her. "Shit. You're shaking." He took her face in his hands, bending down a little to look directly in her eyes. "You're probably in shock or something, and I'm just standing here like an—"

She pressed a hand over his mouth to cut off the rest of the sentence. "Stop talking about yourself like that." Her voice was unsteady – okay, she was probably shaking – but fierce with everything she was feeling. "You're such a great guy. I don't know why you can't see that."

Russ’s look was a mixture of disbelief and awe that someone could even think that, and it made her chest hurt a little just like it did every time she saw it on his face. Gently, he pulled her hand off his mouth, pressing a kiss against her palm. “Come on. Let's go over there and let the EMTs take a look at you while I call the captain and get you the rest of the day off."

"Already done it, for both of you." She looked over to see Font moving towards them, looking very pleased with the universe as a whole. "Captain said you're both in trouble if she sees either of you before tomorrow morning, and reminds you both that you have enough vacation days if you want to hole up some—"

"Font, stop talking." Russ was doing his best to give Font a death glare, his entire being radiating protectiveness as he moved in front of Holly a little. No one ever believed her when she tried to explain how much of a gentleman Russ secretly was. "Now."

Though privately, she thought that holing up with Russ would be the best possible way to spend the rest of the week.

That was when Milt came over. "All he means is that you've both just experienced a very stressful few hours, and could use some recovery time." He looked at Holly. “Want the EMTs to take a look at you?”

She squeezed Russ’s hand again. “We were just on our way to do that.”

Neither of them let go all through the examination, which pronounced her fine just like she’d thought it would. They also didn’t let go all the way to Holly’s car, both of them hesitating at that point as if realizing there was no longer a practical option to avoid it.

Holly looked up at him. "Okay, which of us is better at driving one-handed?"

The slow smile that spread across his face was everything she could have hoped for. "I'm not too bad at it."

They got in the car as quickly as they could, finding each other's hands again. Russ didn't start the car for a moment, turning towards her. Still, he didn't meet her eyes, looking down at her hand as his thumb stroked lightly over her knuckles. "Listen." He let out a breath. "If you change your mind about this—"

"I blackmailed someone for you."

The words just spilled out of her, and Holly only realized what she'd said when Russ's head shot up, eyes wide. "What?"

Flustered, she tightened her grip on his hand. He wasn't the only one worried that the other person might change their mind. "Well, not exactly, but only because—" No, mentioning his mother would be a bad idea right now. "That's not important. The important thing is that I tried very hard to blackmail someone for you."

"Holly...." He sounded stunned.

"A reporter was coming after you. The Captain said we shouldn't do anything, but it turned out he had a record and I threatened to tell his bosses at the paper about it."

Now he looked worried. "Damn it, he could have gotten you _fired_ —"

"I didn't care." Her voice was fierce again. "You were more important."

He blinked hard at that, eyes wet. "Shit." His voice was a rasp, and for a second it was like he'd forgotten how to breathe. Then he surged forward and kissed her, desperate and sweet, and she melted against him just like she had before.

When they broke apart, he leaned his forehead against hers. "How are you even _real_?"

Holly lifted a hand to his cheek. "You were willing to risk your job for me to get the wedding ring back from that suspect. You actually asked Milt for help. How is that any different?"

"Because you're the most amazing person I've ever met, and making your life easier is one of the few good things I do with mine."

There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, and her eyes filled again. "I was so afraid sometimes that you were just being kind to the girl with the stupid crush."

"Are you kidding?" He kissed her again, quick and soft, and the tenderness in it made her chest tighten. "I was the idiot walking around making puppy eyes at you. Literally the entire station knew what a mess I was."

This time, she was the one who kissed him, and as he pulled her closer she deeply regretted the console between them. When they broke apart, she pulled back only far enough to meet his eyes again. "I ... I would really like it if no one at the station saw us until Monday." Her lips curved upward a little, hopeful.  "I don't care where we are, or what we're doing. I just want to be with you."

Russ closed his eyes a moment, overwhelmed, then pressed a kiss against her forehead and made himself pull back. "Okay." His voice was scratchy as he started the car, then found her hand again. "You never got lunch, did you?"

She shook her head. "I was going to pick up something and bring it back to the station."

He nodded. "We'll stop by the sandwich place on 5th you like, then decide what we're going to do from there." He looked over at her, the smile on his face brighter than any she'd ever seen him make. "Like they said, we've both got vacation days."

She smiled back at him, heart threatening to burst out of her. "That sounds like an excellent plan."

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my weekly posts and original short fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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